POPPIES Spitalfields – A Northerners quest for great fish and chips.

You will be hard pushed to find a Northener that doesn’t like fish and chips and i’m no exception. Fish and Chips are a British institution, and as a Nation we consume over 382 million portions annually.

Living in London for the last decade my ‘friday fish and chip’ intake has taken a battering due to the distinct lack of quality fish and chips on offer, or anything else even resembling what’s occurring in deep fat fryers North of Watford.

This is an issue that I am always very vocal about, and every time I whinge about it someone always offers me a solution to cure this inert desire for fried delights. So true to form I will more often than not give peoples recommendations a go, and am nearly always disappointed. The truth is if you haven’t had traditional fish and chips from the North West coast then you don’t have a point of reference. For me the North – South divide has never been so apparent as when discussing fish and chips.

In order to provide you with said point of reference you should be aware that a good fish consists of a steamed milky white fillet encased in a delicate light and crisp batter, which should be integral to the fish and not a layer that easily peels away like soggy wallpaper – fried food of this quality is fairly universal to ‘chippies’ in Lancashire.

This Friday afternoon I found myself in a familiar predicament so after a brief Google found myself en route to Poppies in Spitalfields. It bares all sorts of bold claims on it’s website and has been decorated with an extensive amount of awards so thought it was worth a shot. On arrival we were greeted with a queue of hungry patrons snaking out of the door. Surely a good sign?

Our time spent queueing at Poppies certainly wasn’t in vain as it allowed us to take in the rather bizarre surroundings. The dining room reminded me of the diner in Hill Valley when Marty McFly takes a trip Back to the Future, whilst the staff wear an outfit that suggests that they ought to be wearing roller-skates while carrying pots of over brewed filter coffee.

After waiting in line for around ten minutes we were taken to our table, which unfortunately for us was next to a table of fifteen very enthusiastic Chinese tourists, each projecting a hysterical cackle that had a similar effect on us as kryptonite has on Superman. Luckily the menu didn’t require much concentration so our order was placed swiftly. “Haddock and chips times two and give me two minutes with the wine list.”

Sancerre is a great choice for fish and chips, it’s crisp herbaceous character cuts nicely through the oiliness – perhaps a long shot to hope that a chippy in the East End would have it. They didn’t, so after perusing the five wines they did have on offer I settled on a tempranillo rose (£15.90). The wine list wasn’t actually as uninspiring as it sounds and I was pleased that the only rose they did have on offer wasn’t a white zinfandel (I wouldn’t even cook with it) but a nice dry and fruity Spaniard.

My enthusiasm for the wine list was short lived as what was ordered was not what arrived. After studying the bottle I decided it was of comparable quality to what I ordered so we stuck with it. It was actually a decent bottle and worth noting that it was chilled to perfection. If a ‘caf’ down the market can get it right then why michelin standard restaurants in town are still serving whites and fizz that feel as though they have been basking in Dubai is unfathomable.

We waited patiently for around twenty minutes for the main event to arrive. Time again not altogether wasted as it gave us an opportunity to learn about owner and founder Pop Newlands glittering fish frying career and how he came to start Poppies. One would assume that it has been here since the forties, hence it’s decor and popularity with the Chinese tourists, but it is a staggering four years old, feeling slightly duped I was able to console myself with the knowledge that our food had just arrived.

The fish and chips were good – batter was light and crisp, however there were small traces of undercooked batter lurking beneath. The fish whilst nicely poached in it’s batter still had the skin on, which wasn’t a particularly welcome addition to my plate. Chips were nice chunky slaps of carb heaven which once drowned in a mountain of salt certainly did the job.

If sitting in a dining room with laminate table tops listening to Del Shannon Runaway doesn’t sound top of the pops then this place isn’t for you, and as such my expectation wasn’t great. Some of it’s charm however was not altogether lost on me, and the fish and chips? It’s probably the best i’ve had in London. I’ll save my review of the worst for another day…